


Saving Spiders to Save Butterflies

by xemsai



Series: Vash's Therapy Office [1]
Category: Trigun
Genre: Anime Legato with a Manga Legato flavoring packet, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Legato Lives, M/M, My best attempt at Anime Knives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Vash is going to give them therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xemsai/pseuds/xemsai
Summary: Legato Bluesummers has been a dead man walking for longer than he could recount.—A slightly self-indulgent fic where Legato's injury at the end of the anime was non-fatal. I decided I wanted to explore a Trigun world where both Knives and Legato were given a chance to live normal lives. It won't be easy for people like them on a planet like this, but after all, no one has the right to decide whether another person lives or dies.
Relationships: Legato Bluesummers/Millions Knives
Series: Vash's Therapy Office [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073471
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	Saving Spiders to Save Butterflies

Legato Bluesummers has been a dead man walking for longer than he could recount.

In fact, a man named "Legato Bluesummers" has never truly existed. He bears no birth certificate. There will be no tombstone engraved with his name when he dies. "Legato Bluesummers" exists only as a means of communication with a race that shall soon be obsolete. He has come to accept these things over the many years that he has spent with Knives Millions. There will come a day when the man called "Legato Bluesummers" is finally given the solace he has sought, and flickers out of existence.

  


...Then, why is it that long after that day has passed, the man once called "Legato Bluesummers" awakens to an unfamiliar ceiling?

His eyes blink open, adjusting to the light that filters through them, and he immediately wills himself upright. It's much too fast — the room around him begins to spin, and his entire body begins to ache. It takes everything in him not to become sick on the spot. He remembers. He remembers kneeling at Vash's feet as the crowd closed around the girls from the insurance agency. He remembers the _gunshot_. So why, then, is he here? What kind of cruel joke is being played on him, that has taken away the only thing he ever wished for?

The door to the room coincidentally creaks open — because of course it would, in such a terribly scripted play — and reveals the answer to all his problems: Vash the Stampede. In life, and even in death, Legato had devoted his entire being to the goal of causing this one man eternal suffering.

Not only was the escape he sought and had finally been granted stolen away from him — but he had also failed at the goal Knives had decreed to him and entrusted him with. Indeed, the fact that he continues to draw breath is the most terrible curse he has ever witnessed. Equally awful as it is fitting. His expression begins to twist to mirror his inner ramblings, a wicked grin that is only partially obscured by his bangs as they fall in front of his face.

"Ah, you're awake," Vash replies, looking predictably concerned. Anyone would be troubled to witness the sort of face Legato was making right now. Vash forces a smile, an apparent attempt to placate him, and enters the room. He carries a bucket and sponge with him, which he places in a corner, and Legato refuses to ponder the implications. "How are you feeling? But— Hm, maybe it's better if you don't try to answer. Shouldn't strain yourself—"

Once again, Legato's expression warps, turning into a scowl as Vash so carelessly stumbles over his own words. It's infuriating and insulting, and it cannot continue. " _Ssssssstop_ —" Legato's voice comes out as barely a hiss, though Vash is more than capable of picking up on it. He drops the facade and begins to fidget nervously, but it doesn't matter. Within moments, Legato can no longer distinguish Vash's figure from the rest of his surroundings. Everything is swimming, and sweet darkness overtakes him before he has long to consider what might be happening.

  


* * *

  


The next time the man who was once known as "Legato Bluesummers" wakes, he at least finds himself familiar with the ceiling that greets his bleary vision.

He simply lies there for a good while, staring upwards and remaining still and silent. He is weak: he has learned this now. His body is much too frail to support any of his fury and bitterness in any actual capacity. He isn't sure exactly how long he remains in that room alone, but it can't be too long before the door opens, and his solitude is disturbed once more.

He finds, of course, that it is Vash who has returned, along with a local doctor that he seems to be well acquainted with. They attempt to discern how lucid Legato is now that he is awake, but he hasn't the strength nor will to entertain them. Failing that, they at least attempt to convey the following information to him, which he is quite fortunate to have been able to understand: that yesterday was the first time he has been conscious in two months.

Legato's gaze shifts, then, to finally look Vash in the eye. He seems disconcerted by it, but an understanding between them remains — the acknowledgment that Legato has _heard_ what they have told him. He refuses to speak for the rest of that day, and regardless, anything else they have to say to him is inconsequential. Vash attempts to soothe him, tells him that he should stay in bed and rest anyways. Legato simply cannot will himself to make benign conversation with an enemy that he despises so profoundly.

  


In time, however, Legato begins to open up to the doctor. He convinces himself that cooperation with his medical staff might hasten the time he must spend recovering here and withstanding Vash's inane visits. He has physical therapy he has to go through, and eventually when speech therapy is suggested, he accepts that as well. He's quite lucky to have these resources, his doctor says during one of their appointments, and he's equally blessed to have someone as kind as _that young man_ looking after him.

Legato's mood immediately sours, and though he tries not to show it, it's clear that his caretaker picks up on it. When they part, he sits in bed and broods, and the next time Vash the Stampede visits, Legato finally speaks to him.

"...Where is my master?"

The tension in the air becomes tangible as soon as the words leave his mouth. Legato keeps his gaze fixated on where his hands rest in his lap, ignoring Vash as he moves about the room. Collecting his thoughts, presumably, though every second that passes in the silence between them fosters Legato's growing resentment.

"When I shot you, I—"

"Shut up," Legato hisses, digging his fingers into his thighs. "I asked you a question. My master, Knives Millions: where is he? Have you killed him?"

"No!" Vash immediately raises his hands, waving away the notion. "Of course not. I promise you he's safe."

Legato scowls, his gaze finally moving to meet Vash's. "And you expect me to believe he suffers me to live? What a cruel joke, Vash the Stampede." He speaks as though it's the most simple notion in the world, and he's almost surprised by the look of genuine sorrow that Vash gives him.

"Is it really so hard for you to believe that he could change, Legato?"

"... Don't preach to me. Not once in my time with Knives Millions did he ever show anything more than satisfaction at the ending of a human life. I am not an exception. In fact—"

— _from the beginning, an end brought by his hand was all that I wished for_ —

"—I was merely a part of his playing field." By now, he's used to suppressing his sentimentality. "My part was over the moment you took my life. ...Or so it should have been." Vash's sadness only seems to grow the more Legato speaks, and his own irritation swells in equal proportions.

"Shouldn't you be happy to be alive?"

"You must find it extremely difficult to restrain yourself from imposing your foolish ideals upon me. You could never imagine the life I have lived. Death is the only possible form of salvation for a creature like me. You, who is a superior being, wouldn't—"

"You're wrong, Legato." Vash's expression twists, showing more resolve, though that sickening pity in his eyes remains. "Well, Knives and I aren't human. You're right about that. But that fact doesn't make us any better than you or any other human. We don't have any more right to decide who's worthy of living and dying."

"Irresponsible," Legato's shoulders tremble with the effort of holding back his emotions. He leans forward, looking down at where his hands have begun to grip the sheets. An empty grin is painted across his features. "To let a population as egotistical and vile as mankind decide their own worth… Do you have any idea what sort of debauchery they would devolve to?"

"Yeah. I do. And still, I'll try to steer them towards a better path." He refuses to look, but Legato can imagine Vash's stern expression from the determination with which he speaks. "They always have the chance to change. It's just not right to take that from them. The same goes for Knives. ...And for you, Legato. I never shoot to kill. You aren't an exception."

"...

"From the bottom of my heart, I detest you, Vash the Stampede."

"... That's okay," Vash says, smiling just as Legato's expression sours once more. "You don't have to be happy with me or like me. It's enough that you're alive. That you have a chance, like everyone else, to decide your own future."

Once again, Legato simply stops responding. He is still weak, and he no longer has the energy to continue such a useless conversation. Eventually, as it always does, the silence drives Vash away, and Legato is left hopelessly replaying the exchange in his head.

_A world where even someone like me is allowed to determine his own life's worth…_

It's a preposterous notion. And yet, somehow, the thought has a grip on Legato. Perhaps devoid of Knives' guidance, alone and fragile, he has allowed himself to become weaker than he ever was before. He lies up at night, staring at the ceiling of this room he has been confined to, debating on whether he shall seek Knives or death once he is finally freed.

  


He continues to bide his time. He speaks with Vash as little as possible when he visits, and continues to do what his doctor asks of him. As the days pass, he collects more information. It seems that though Vash indeed pulled the trigger, he made the split-second decision to aim in the least deadly manner possible. Legato was extremely lucky — or extremely _unlucky_ — to have survived even acknowledging that.

He is tired. Incredibly tired of living his life on Vash's terms. Each day he wakes, eats, exercises, and goes to sleep, all only with the hope that he will be deemed healthy enough to leave.

He had nearly come to think that day would never come. That time would stretch on endlessly, as Vash reminded him of his failure to reach his end. That might be a fitting punishment.

  


After he dresses back into a clean set of his clothing that has been prepared for him (save his jacket, presumably disposed of by Vash), he is released into the desert sun. What he finds waiting for him is perhaps even crueler than an infinite span of meaningless days spent in a hospital bed.

"...Bluesummers."

Knives Millions' voice triggers something instinctive within him, and before he can even think about it, Legato raises a hand to his chest and bows deeply in reverence.

"Master. All I can do is apologize for my failure to heed your orders. I will accept whatever judgment you deem fit, even should you choose to end my life here and now."

He can hear Vash let out an exasperated 'hey, now, none of that is necessary,' but Knives is silent, so Legato remains still. All of his nerves are on edge, completely lit up in anticipation. He wonders which will be rewarded: Vash's faith, or his own loyalty?

"It seems I'm not quite finished with you, Legato Bluesummers. Against all my predictions, humans are more resilient than I gave them credit for. Come now. Let's get out of this place."

When he looks up, Knives is already turning to walk away. Vash beckons to Legato, encouraging him to come along.

...Not only has he been deemed worthy of continuing to live by Knives, but he has also been given the privilege of continuing to live his life beside him. Undoubtedly, this is the cruelest outcome he could have imagined — no, it is _beyond_ even his imagination.

_A world where even someone like me is allowed to continue living, even after everything I have done…_

As Legato follows in their footsteps, it's only the desert winds against his face that leads him to realize he's crying. He wonders if this is his actual punishment: there could be nothing more wicked than dangling hope before a creature who has never in its life tasted it.

**Author's Note:**

> I have 5 things to tell you.
> 
> 1) This fic is based on the anime, with influence from the manga. I mainly used it as inspiration to fill in the gaps of Legato’s backstory.  
> 2) I took Legato’s coat away because I think he looks milfy when he’s just wearing the turtleneck.  
> 3) No, I don’t have an actual explanation for how Legato could have been shot point-blank in the head and lived. It’s Trigun. You don’t think Vash could pull it off?  
> 4) I currently have no projection of how long this fic will be. It could be many chapters, or I may end it a few chapters from now. For however long it is, I’ll try my best to update at least semi-regularly. I’ll definitely update once a month, but I’d like to shoot for bi-weekly if I can.  
> 5) If you’re reading my Kingdom Hearts fic, I’m sorry… I’m working on that too… Thank you for supporting me!


End file.
